Posts Tagged ‘word play’

Time was when every alphabet in the English language could hope to be invited to the Opera of the Words.

Lack of smart phone predictors meant word merchants had to actually rack their brains to spell correctly. Continued demands placed on the brain eventually led to a breakdown, from which humankind failed to recover. Gradualy corect spelings began to fal by the wayside. Occidental misspellings, initially looked down upon, bcame so mainstreem that corect spellings bcam an endangered species.

Reminisenses made sense, to those that followed the thongue.

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Lyf hd bin hell in da 19th n 20th cenchoories. Da dimmands placd on gettng stuf rite ws onerus. 1der witch demon maid these silly rooles of riting. Of using the ristraints of spelling. Nt for rebells, dis spelling biz! Only fooles play by da rooles. We wantd 2 brk free of this shakles.

V gt away wid phonyticks in phoneticks class, witch helpd us achev sooo much tht r riting ability soard flewently. The con of tence and sentense construkshun. What a constrikshun. 1 dussnt undrstnd y da oldys luvd there wards sooo much. That fell low, Shakes pear. Shake hs pears, sum1. Got cot in da rut and rote by rote abt rotten thngs. Vorse, thy maid us resite da wards of dead ppl in frunt of dose dat cudn b botherd. V don undstnd dat shit nymor. Listning is challengng 4 us. R best riters do the riting in a stile dat v guys folow. V lik simpl, shot vords; witch v shoten futhur. n futhur. Its da neu order.

Den der ws dat otha guy, Vordsworth. He shuddav bin namd Vordsworthless, 4 da pain he causd us al wid hs outwordly ramblings. Den der wer da othrs. A long list. Da philosuffers, and there fabulous confabulations. Dis grp deserv special caning. Boyle maid blud boil, Kant ws a c**t, Hegel needed a bagel, Marx gt no marks, Twain ws a pain. Da later wasn even a philosuffer. N yet he managd to do gr8 damage, esp wid hs sillee coat abt histry ryming bt nt repeeting. As u cn cleerlee c, he ws dead. N rong.

Ye abhorrers! Err in gramerr isn’ a horrer! Shunning is a nachooral progresshun. Evolushun. Da purist old hags no knot whts a knot, n whts not. Playng wid wards dussnt giv us ny playsure. Morons. Ah, moreon morons. Da peegeons uf yore dint knw 2 read or rite, yet did a gr8 job uf pissing da cumunicashuns. Hooeva thot uf drillng orda in wards.

Dey say luv cs knw langooage. Cudn hv bin writer. Bein wardless is no barrear 2 leting an outlet 2 feelngs. Wht nighther wnts in da nights is a conworseation. V lyk strait acshun. Wards cum in da way. Amid gets da midgets. Ading mor payne 2 lyf.

Bt v suffur frm shot concentrashun as a result. Nighther cn v hold a thot.

Can knot, not a can, can v? V can. Not knot a can.

V can rite. Yet.

Ther wil cum a time to per4m da last writes.

Til thn, may sence, or sentence, prewail.

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Spooner and Pun seldom met, but when they did, words danced.

Their individual personalities invoked pleasure in beholders that were fortunate to witness them in written form. While Pun believed in word plays, Spooner warmed to word transpositions that caused swapping of sounds and meaning (Spoonerism). Both believed these were rare art forms capable of exciting word admirers. Sometimes, during despondent drunken drownings, Alliteration made her presence felt.

One fine day, Spooner and Pun decided to experiment with a personality mix. Each would reflect idiosyncratic aspects of the other, in addition to their signature personalities. Neither knew what to expect and a result, excitement ran high leading up to D-day.

On the anointed day, their personalities enmeshed. Words warmed up to dance.

A naturally funny lad, Pun discovered, quite stunningly, thanks to Spooner, that stunning puns made possible punning stuns. Pun was a rather selfish guy, however. His personal misfortunes outweighed personnel misfortunes. Misfortune would descend, lake of tears would well and, well, ’twas well nigh impossible to dam Pun‘s damnation. In confessing his profession, Pun often took to professing confessions. Spooner‘s personality was very evidently spooning from within.

Spooner, meanwhile, felt that the wind of an ode bell could bode well for their existence. He derived immense pleasure from moving alphabets around, often for comic effect but mostly for its own sake. Some one had to do it. Spooner often pretended playing with his pouch, Alliteration‘s, pet pooh, which had been named, for reasons unknown, as Douche. Spooner liked to pat his back; while Douche, the terrier, liked to touche his derriere.

Both then contemplated a round of bowling. Pun was wary. His mind raced back to the time when he was courting Alliteration; their post-brunch bowling brawls often ended in bawling bowls. Spooner, for his part, remembered the time when he too courted Alliteration. Prior to the game, when drabbling dab, they often ended up dabbling drab. Neither wished unsavoury memories to spoil their unique personality swap. They dropped the bowling idea. Alliteration dropped her bawling bowl, bewailing brazenness. Neither appeared bewitched.

They then decided to putt in a round of golf. As conversation flowed, Pun was unequivocal about the true reason behind the financial crisis. Pun believed that lusting for bucks had led to busting of lucks. At this point, Spooner butted in, putting forth his views on the matter. He lamented that the world was caught in a Depression and easy dough times had given way to tough dimes.

Soon though, the personality swap ran into rough waters, gravely endangering the budding friendship. Through serious conversation, with both trying to butt in, tempers soared and butting putts gave way to putting butts. The final nail in the coffin came thanks to a slip-up from Pun, who was consumed by Spooner’s personality. On seeing Alliteration’s Douche, Pun exclaimed, ‘you have a rape-able cunt!’, and Alliteration’s anger ascended alarmingly. Before Pun could explain that he actually meant a ‘capable runt’, Alliteration flew into a rage and launched into an elaborate rant, riveted ‘round the runt rebuke. Pun’s buns were mauled badly by Douche. Spooner bawled madly, preemptively. But Douche-bagged him, too.

Bun dusted, Spooner and Pun concluded that their personality swap had failed, entertainingly. Both wisely opted to revert to their true personalities but agreed to collaborate, bringing their unique personalities together, to entertain the world.

Alliteration averred an acidic approval.